Page 75 of Fake Dating My Best Friend

“You felt it.”

A floorboard creaks, and a flash of Betty’s floral housecoat appears in my peripheral vision. Of course, she’s “watering her plants” in the hallway right now.

“Everything alright, dears?” she calls out, her eyes sparkling with delight like she’s just hit the town gossip jackpot.

“Fine!” I bolt to my apartment door, literally three steps across from Asher’s, Mochi scrambling to keep up. “Just . . . taking Mochi for a walk!”

Chapter 19

Asher

Theclockreads4:37AM when I finally give up on sleep.

My brain won’t shut off, replaying last night on an endless loop. Every time I close my eyes, I see Isla’s face—the panic, the retreat, the walls slamming back into place.

I throw on my running gear and head out, choosing a route I rarely take. The familiar paths hold too many memories of Isla. Twenty years of friendship, and I’ve never felt this hollow.

The pre-dawn air bites at my face as I jog down Maple Street. My breath forms clouds in front of me. The town is silent, except for the crunch of my shoes against the pavement.

One hundred percent compatibility. Her algorithm confirmed what I’ve known for years. We’re perfect for each other. Then our heartbeats synced like something out of those romance novels she loves to read. Everything pointed to this being our moment.

And then she ran.

I pick up my pace, pushing harder as if I can outrun the memory of her slipping away.

I thought clearing up the misunderstanding and telling her I wanted more than friendship would open a new door for us.

I was wrong.

It feels like rejection.

But the way she melted in my arms? That wasn’t one-sided. I know she felt it too.

So where did I screw this up? What step did I miss? Did I just ruin our friendship on top of everything else?

My feet carry me toward the park. The old playground equipment stands like shadows against the brightening sky. I slow to a walk, my lungs burning from the cold air and exertion.

Isla and I used to have competitions here when we were kids. Who could swing higher, who’d jump first. She was always the first to leap—fearless and free.

Strange how things change. Now I’m the one wanting to risk it all, wanting to find out what’s waiting on the other side of this.

But now I don’t even know if we can still be friends.

My father might say I did it wrong, that I was being irresponsible. That I should have stuck to the plan, kept things safe and predictable.

I’m about to turn back toward home when I spot a familiar figure jogging along the path ahead. Victor Martinez, Isla’s stepdad. He’s in his usual running gear—black sweatpants and an olive windbreaker. His salt-and-pepper hair is hidden under a knit cap.

Great. Just what I need right now.

I consider cutting across the field or pretending I didn’t see him, but he’s already spotted me, raising his hand in greeting. Too late to escape.

“Morning, Asher!” Victor slows to a stop, his breath forming clouds in the cold air. “You’re out early.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” I shrug, stretching my arms over my head to avoid eye contact.

Victor nods, studying my face for a beat too long. “Mind if I join you for a bit?”

Yes, I want to say. I’d rather run alone with my misery. But Victor has always been decent to me, and Christina would kill me if I was rude to her husband.

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